After his first visit to Furrs Baptist Church where he would soon become pastor, Daddy came home talking about the young man, a high school senior, who played the piano. Little did either of us know how that young man would affect our lives. On my first trip to Furrs, as Daddy brought the family for introductions, we stopped at Butler’s Grocery, a modern country store. Mr. Butler introduced the young pianist. Crippled with arthritis, he reached up to Allen’s shoulder and said, “This is my baby boy.” My first impressions of the young man included his musical skills but added his looks (dark hair, brown eyes, shy smile) and the red and white hardtop 1956 Buick he drove.
Changes were in our future. My plans at that point included beginning college that fall pursuing a career in nursing. Allen’s father would die before he finished his senior year, and he would take over the country store. By the time school started in the fall, the red and white Buick would be parked in our yard when the Itawamba Junior College school bus dropped me off at home. Allen’s mother covered for him at the store for him to take a short afternoon break. I won’t say it was love at first sight, but it didn’t take long!
I got my associate’s degree from Itawamba Junior College, with a changed major, on one Sunday, and we got married the next on June 1, 1958 in a filled and very hot and un-airconditioned Furrs Baptist Church with Daddy performing the ceremony and Allen’s piano teacher furnishing the music. We promised “for better or worse, ‘til death do us part.”
We had no idea where other changes would eventually take us. Joining a friend, I commuted to Ole Miss to get an education degree and free the teacher that had been lurking inside me all along. Then Uncle Sam sent Allen a letter on his 24th birthday that began, “Greetings,”. Uncle Sam did not know it was his birthday; he was just calling Allen into service in the Army. As Uncle Sam put that square peg in a square hole, Allen began a rewarding military career.
Today marks 67 years since that “better or worse” promise, and we have seen both as we’ve lived in six states and four countries outside the USA. In a weird kind of math, the “Betters” (three children, ten grandchildren, satisfying careers, multitudes of friends in various places, travel, etc.) have been doubled and the “Worses” (the separations of Allen’s year in Korea and year in Vietnam come first to mind) have been halved as we have done this life together.
Anniversaries like this one that fall on Sunday have always seemed special to me. I think back to how young we were (20 and 18 ½) and how little we knew about what the future held. As I think about how much we were promising without any foreknowledge, the question comes, “If you had it to do over, would you do it again?” My answer is quick. “In a heartbeat!”
